


Broken

by Dollz



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Guitars, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mental Health Issues, Music, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, References to Drugs, References to Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dollz/pseuds/Dollz
Summary: Everybody knows of Paula Cracker's infamous interview from "Rise of the Ogre", but nobody asks what was happening behind the scene. Is Paula truly as heartless as she makes herself out to be...? Well, that's for you to decide.
Relationships: Paula Cracker & Stuart "2D" Pot, Paula Cracker/Other(s), Paula Cracker/Stuart "2D" Pot
Kudos: 7





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the Plastic Beach song, "Broken", and is another sort sequel to my previous one-shots. This one is the story behind Paula Cracker's infamous interview for Rise of Ogre. Hope you like it!

“I still don’t understand why you agreed to this.” Paula’s roommate says, as she watches her wash down a pair of bitter pills with some ice cold water. The raven-haired twenty-eight-year-old lets out a sigh, as she places the glass down on the kitchen island.

“What? They need my interview for their book, so I’m gonna give them one.” She replies casually.

“But I thought you said you were done with them? Wasn’t that your plan? To get away from it all?” Her white-haired friend asks, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, and it still is… It’s just… Nevermind. Anyway, what I’m saying is that I need to do this. Just… Trust me on this, alright?” The guitarist stammers out, unsure if she should tell her the actual reason for why she’s doing this interview.

“... Alright, I trust you.” Rosie sighs in defeat, before giving her housemate a weak smile. “But if you need me, I’m right upstairs.”

“... I know.” Paula responds. Once her best friend heads upstairs, she takes a look at her watch. The interviewer is about to arrive any minute now. Soon enough, the doorbell rings. She lets the man in, apathetically greeting him. He takes a seat on the armchair, and sits down on the couch.

“Alright, let’s start this.” He says, turning on his tape recorder and taking out his notebook. “Tell me about your relationship with 2-D. How did you two meet and how long have you been seeing each other? How did he convince you to be part of the band?”

“Well, I’ve been seeing Stu-Pot for about two months. I played a bit of guitar, and used to buy strings from the shop he worked in. He was very sweet, a bit thick though.” Paula answers.

“He said he was gonna be a singer in this band, yeah? They didn’t have a name yet, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I heard it all before’. Still, I went down to Kong Studios to check them out, and I ended up playing with them… But when I saw Murdoc with his thick greasy hair, green teeth, and yellow skin, I thought, ‘Oh, he’s the one for me’.” She continues. Honestly, she is oversimplifying how her attraction to Murdoc came to be, but she is never going to admit the shame and guilt she felt due to those feelings. She doesn’t feel like she needs or deserves pity.

“I see. So in your eyes, Murdoc is handsome?” The interviewer asks, obviously a bit suspicious of her tastes in men. “Did you keep contact with him after… the incident?”

“Oh, he’s such a dandy!” Paula exclaims in a false enthusiastic tone, feeling disgusted by her own words. “Like Errol Flynn or something… But after that thing in the toilets, they kicked me out, but I never heard from Murdoc again, and my purse was gone. Since then, they’ve become this big massive band, so I guess I was pleased for them, but it also kind of makes me feel really, er… sick. In the head. Like I want to hurt people.”

She felt her mouth turn sour.

“They tried to write me out of the story of Gorillaz, but I was the guitarist way before that Noodle. I’ve got half a mind to hunt them down and start screwing with their heads.” The punk-clad woman describes in a bitter tone. Then she realizes what she just said, and looks at the interviewer to see a rather shocked expression on his face.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere. Shall we continue?” Paula questioned.

“No, I think I got everything I needed. Thank you for your time, Miss Cracker.” The man replies, turning off the tape recorder and taking it, as he heads to the door. A wave of shame washes over the guitarist, knowing that what she said was most likely not going to be cut out. She lets out a solemn sigh, before heading upstairs. She passes Rosie’s room, and is immediately noticed by her.

“Oi, how did that interview go?” The shorter woman asks, momentarily pausing her current progress with a new sculpture. She can’t help but notice that the interview ended shorter than expected.

“It was fine.” Paula lies. She heads to the bathroom, and starts washing her face. After finishing, she looks into the mirror. She brushes her fingers through her hair, thinking of getting it cut. Then she walks into her bedroom, and lies down on her messy covers. Some people would assume that she agreed to give that interview for money, or some kind of public recognition. However, the truth was much sadder than that.

_ Distant stars _

_ Come in black or red _

_ I've seen their worlds _

_ Inside my head _

_ They connect _

_ With the fall of man _

_ They breathe you in _

_ Then dive as deep as they can _

She could still remember that night, in 1999. She was at a bar, drinking some whiskey to get her mind off things. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest of ways to do it, but she was too tired to care. However, something played on the TV that caught the attention of her fatigued mind. It was one of those celebrity gossip shows. The screen displayed a video of a new celebrity couple, and one half of that couple just happened to be her blue-haired ex. Paula's eyes widened as she saw 2-D lock lips with none other than the beautiful Rachel Stevens.

At first, the raven-haired woman tried to shrug it off, assuming that it was just a fling. They were probably drunk and didn't mean anything… Then she saw his hand slide down from her waist to the small of the female singer's back… Just like he used to with Paula. That's when the dreadful wave of realization washed over her. He moved on… He will never do that with her again.

__ _ There's nothing you can do for them _

_ They are the force between _

_ When the sunlight is arising _

_ There's nothing you can say to him _

_ He is in outer heart _

_ And the space has been broken _

All she could remember happening afterwards was her uncontrollable sobs during her drive home. She wanted nothing more than to stop those tears from falling, but she couldn't. Why was she crying? Shouldn't she be happy for him that he found someone better? Shouldn't she be glad that he was no longer hurting from what happened…? Well, as much she preferred to feel in such a way, she couldn't bring herself to do it. The more she thought about his new relationship, the more it reminded her of her own solitude… A solitude is nobody else's fault but her own.

After parking her car in the driveway, she spent a whole half an hour inside the vehicle muttering to herself. 

"Get a hold of yourself… You don't care… You shouldn't care… Calm down…" She whispered softly over and over again. After she ran out of tears to cry, she sniffled, opening the door, and getting out of the car. Then she headed towards her front door.

After walking up the stairs, on her way through the hallway to her room, she passed Rosie's. There, the white-haired woman on the bed, barely dressed and probably intoxicated, passionately snogging a gorgeous brunette. The guitarist's heart stung at the sight, but she kept walking. That night, she fell into a dreamless sleep, thinking about nothing but how alone she truly was.

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

Paula's teeth clench at the memory, feeling furious with herself for being so pathetic. The interview was supposed to be her chance to prove to those guys that she moved on as well… That she was just as happy as they are and that what happened no longer mattered to her… But that was a lie, as was proven by her final words in the interview. What happened still haunts her after almost eight years, and she’s been trying to move on for ages, but she’s still as attached to the past as she’s always been. She wants nothing more than to say sorry to the man she hurt, and be happy for her old band’s current success, but all she can feel is… anger… jealousy… spite…

She was angry at herself for being such a careless bitch in the past… She was jealous of her old bandmates for being able to move on so quickly… She was spiteful towards the world for preventing her from moving past it all…

_ Is it far away _

_ In the Glitter Freeze _

_ Or in our eyes _

_ Every time they meet _

_ It's by the light _

_ Of the plasma screens _

_ We keep switched on _

_ All through the night while we sleep _

Her painted nails dig into her forearms as her body shivers. No, she will not cry. No right now… Then she feels a small drop roll down her cheek, and watches it fall onto the carpeted floor. Then another… And another… Tears continue falling, as she firmly presses her lips together, refusing to let out even a single squeak… She can’t let the world know she’s like this…

The raven-haired woman stands up from the bed to close the window curtains, isolating herself completely. She then kneels down and reaches under the bed for a certain cardboard box. She takes off the lid, and takes out her old family photo. She takes a good look at the woman she admires so much.

“Mum… Please, I need to know… If you were here with me right now… would you still be proud to call me your little girl…?” She thought, desperately hoping for any kind of sign.

_ There's nothing you can do for them _

_ They are the force between _

_ When the sunlight is arising _

_ There's nothing you can say to her _

_ I am without a heart _

_ And the space has been broken _

After waiting for a whole five minutes, Paula’s fingers released the photo in her hands. A soft helpless whimper escapes her lips. However, she caught herself, before she could even attempt to cry. She can’t let Rosie hear… She can’t make her worry.

Instead of collapsing into sobs, she reaches under the bed again, only this time, for a completely different object. She takes out a large black case, and opens it, revealing her beloved acoustic guitar. She takes it into her arms, before grabbing a pick. Then, letting out a soft sigh, she begins to play, sitting on the floor. She strums along the strings, letting her fingers speak her emotions… Every feeling of anguish… Every moment of misery… Each note told its story.

As the song continued, the guitarist felt herself slowly become at ease. It felt every bit like her mother was right there next to her, smiling at her with pride.

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

_ It's Broken _

_ Our love _

_ Broken _

“Paula?” A voice calls out gently, interrupting the music. The guitar player snaps out of her trance, before turning to face her roommate, whose facial expression is filled with concern, and whose fingers are covered in small bits of clay.

“Oh, hey Rosie.” The dark-haired woman greets her awkwardly, before putting her guitar to the side. “What did you need?”

“Oh, I just overheard you playing and… I wanted to know if everything was alright.” The light-haired sculptor replies. It’s obviously been awhile since she last heard her old school friend play. At first, Paula considers lying again… To say that everything was fine…

“... No… It’s not alright… Nothing has been alright as of late.” She confesses shamefully. Rosie stays silent for a few seconds, before walking over to her friend, and sitting down beside her on the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The artist asks innocently.

“... Yes… I think I do.” Paula answers, before she feels those slightly clay-coated hands place themselves over her slightly calloused ones. Then the two friends have a long talk that Paula truly needed at that point in life.


End file.
